


To Meet your Prince

by unicornlover2121



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff, Legal Prostitution, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Or at least very little, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 07:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18331586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornlover2121/pseuds/unicornlover2121
Summary: The Omega body is a wonderous and cruel thing.  So sensitive, so full of potential, but not very keen on giving you a choice on if you want to tap into that potential or not.  Blaise Fierro most certainly doesnotwant to tap into that potential, not if it means mating and tying himself down to some hotshot Alpha.  But as one day heats become one week stays in a hospital...  He doesn't have much of a choice.Fortunately, a new doctor offers him an alternate path.Unfortunately, the subsequent heat spent with a "professional heat companion" goes a little too well.





	To Meet your Prince

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miss_Lv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Lv/gifts).



> Okay, so I appear to have a pattern of writing wholesome works about gigolos. Gifted to Miss_Lv not because I know her, but because... I just like her work. And I hope she sees it and it makes her happy. The works.

There was something about hospitals that set Blaise on edge. Maybe it was that everything was too white and too organized. Maybe it was the smell of antiseptics. Maybe it was that his new doctor was elderly, underweight, and had this nasty habit of drumming her skeletal fingers on her clipboard. Either way he hated them, and wanted to leave. 

So he'd gotten rather sick of having to go to one five times a year just to be told ( _again)_ that the irregularity of his heats was caused by his remarkable lack of a mate for an Omega of his age, blah blah blah. Blaise didn't think telling him to go get hitched was valid medical advice and he wasn't gonna ever fall for that sexist bullshit. They kept on saying 'It's unhealthy to go through this many heats alone,' and he kept on saying 'There ain't no way I'm giving up my independence to some hotshot Alpha.' But then he was right back to the hospital two and a half months later (a full fifteen days less than any Omega should have to be) because he was vomiting his guts out and burning close to 103, no matter how many times he fucked himself.

This time Dr. Harris had refused to see him. _Refused_. So now Blaise had to talk to a bird like woman as she _tap tap tapped_ on her clipboard. He'd up and gone during preheat, this time: didn't want no ambulance rides after the last time. He'd begged the paramedic to fuck him. He wasn't proud of it, but he had, and there was no way he was ever doing that again. So he'd gone during preheat this time, and Dr. Harris had said 'If you're not going to listen to me, I can't help you.' And now this woman was asking him questions that Dr. Harris already knew the answers to. 

"When was your last heat?" She asked. "Is that a normal time between heats for you?" She asked. "How long did your last heat last?" And sure, Dr. Harris asked all these questions too, but he asked them out of formality, not because he didn't know or couldn't read a goddamn paper. 

When he said he was heating for seven days straight (three of which he'd spent on IV and suppressant meds that weren't worth a damn thing) she looked a bit worried. It was worrying. Heats were meant to last a day tops, sandwiched by preheat and an ugly wind down day, and the rest of your fertile period should be marked by a bit of extra slick and an oversensitive nose. If you're in full on _heat_ your entire ovulation, that's a problem. He knew it. He knew the suppressants he'd been given didn't work for shit, and he didn't care if it just _wasn't the right dose_ or whatever after failure number three, and now when he asked for them he was just told they might “exasperate his condition” or some shit. 

“Blaise, pardon my crudeness, but you've got to get laid.” The doctor stopped tapping her fingers at Blaise’s sneer. “There aren't two ways about it. I'm a specialist in Omega health, and you're healthy as can be save for these problems. You need a companion to help you break the heat or you're going to end up hurting yourself.”

“Naw. I don't want no Alpha, Lady.”

“That's alright: a Beta would do.”

“I don't want a Beta either!”

“An Omega with a strap on?”

“I’m not gay. And I mean, it's not like I don't think Alphas are handsome or whatnot—some of them even smell quite good. Like, the ones with a bit of sweetness under their spice that makes them smell like candy? Delicious. I just don't want to make a mate out of one of the bastards. I don't even want to make one of them my boyfriend. Even if I found a nice one I still wouldn't want him to be my boyfriend. I don't want no boyfriend at all.”

“You don't need to date an Alpha to spend a heat with one.”

“Oh, bullshit. You don't just walk into a bar and say ‘My heat is in a week, will you help me through it?’ That's a great way to end up bitten and knocked up by some rutting asshole you'll never see again.”

“Of course. You should not spend your heat with a stranger from some bar, and I would never recommend it. I was going to recommend you hire a professional heat companion.”

“ _What?!”_

_“_ You heard me. It's the ideal solution. You're free from the commitment of a mate, but you still get a safe, attentive partner.”

“Do you often recommend that your clients hire prostitutes?”

“Yes. As I said, it's ideal, and you're not the first case of this nature I've handled.”

Blaise pouted, but weighed it in his mind. It did sound ideal—and he _really_ didn't want to deal with another heat alone, but…

“Is it legal?”

“Completely.”

“Fine. I'll do it. But it better not make this shit worse.”

———

The admission procedure for whatever bullshit place the doctor was sending him was invasive and dumb. He wasn't a fan of people shining lights in his eyes on a good day, but during preheat? No thank you. They kept on poking and prodding him with q-tips and gloved fingers, even taking a few vials of blood, and it really didn’t seem like proper practice for a goddamn brothel. 

They lead him to a room with a queen sized bed and some blankets to make a nest of, which was well enough, but he was surprised to find there was a little kitchen and mini fridge too. Oh, he wasn't expecting it to be some hole in the wall—not after all the medical bullshit and _certainly_ not at these prices, but he hadn't expected something so…. Homey. 

The blankets looked softer than his puppy back home, and that was nicer than he needed. Blaise didn't nest a lot, really, and when he did it was just a scattering of pillows and the blankets he slept with. Nothing fancy. 

But he fell into the pile as soon as the Beta functionary left and told him “Prince” would be there shortly. Funny name, Prince. Probably fake. He'd made a nice nest for himself by the time “Prince” came in. Blaise was surprised for various reasons, not just because he thought they were gonna spring the Alpha on him when the heat was really hammering so he wouldn't have the mind to complain about an ugly face. But Prince didn't have an ugly face at all. And he wasn't some big bear like Blaise had been fearing: Short for an Alpha, really, and fully clothed. That surprised him. He was starting to believe that he didn't know much of anything. 

He was also surprised that Prince was black. It wasn't that he was racist: he was a bit of everything himself and God had rolled some dice and given him thick curly hair and sepia skin, but with a name like “Prince” he'd been expecting some white twink. Maybe most people couldn't expect an old, huge man and a white twink at the same time, but Blaise was talented. 

“Hey.” Prince said, with a smile. “I'm Prince. What’s yours?”

Blaise didn't know what to say, because this wasn't how this had played out in his head. So he just said “Blaise. Blaise Fierro.” and stared straight at the Alpha. Was this a mistake? He was in heat: not exactly his most militant state. This man could seriously hurt him and he couldn't do a thing about it. 

Blaise wouldn't admit it, but he was a little scared of Alphas. It's not that one had ever hurt him: sure, a few creeps had left him shaken a few times, but no one had shoved their tongue down his throat or groped him. Worst that ever happened was the old neck grab, and that did all of nothing to him. But he was scared of them anyways. And Prince was alone with him, and his heat was fast approaching and—

Prince asked if he could sit down. 

Blaise had gotten himself so worked up he hardly heard the question. He just blinked at the Alpha, confused. “What?”

“I asked if I could sit down.” Prince gestured to the love seat nestled against the wall. “I'm not going to eat you or anything. I'm only here to serve you.”

“Oh. Yes, of course you can sit.” Blaise made a vague gesture towards the couch. “I admit I am a bit frazzled. I have not done this before.”

Why was he talking so formally? He never talked this formally outside of work. Prince had sat down and was twirling a little something in his hands: a fidget spinner, of all things. Cute. 

Blaise wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. He was feeling flushed—whether it be from nerves or the oncoming heat he couldn't be sure. 

“So, you said you're here to… Serve me?” Blaise asked. “What does that entail?”

“What you need it to. I can fetch you water or toss you a light meal or come cuddle you. Whatever you ask for—though I request you don't treat me like a show pony. Some clients start ordering to sing and dance just because they can, and that always feels dehumanizing.”

Blaise was going to try ordering him to do something like that, just to see if he would, but he understood the request. “Reasonable. I wouldn't like people telling me to do those things much neither. I don't like people telling me what to do at all.”

“Not even during heats?” Prince asked, and Blaise was offended for a moment on instinct, because anything said about his heats was probably offensive, but then he realized he was being asked sexy questions because he had an Alpha there to _serve him_ (and that made him a bit hotter under the collar than he'd admit) and he needed to make sure he served him right. 

“Not even then. I don't mind requests, sure: everyone always has things to request and that's just fine. But I hate orders. Now, my turn for a question… They say you're ‘rut trained,’ but no one has told me what that means. Does that mean you just don't go into rut?”

“Oh, no.” Prince laughed, shaking his head. “We haven't found a way to cancel rut and wouldn't use it if we could—that would make it real hard to keep up. Being ‘rut trained’ means I can control myself during rut, so I don't go biting or throwing around our Omegas. What do you do for a living?”

“I'm a financial analyst. How long have you been working in this clinic?”

“About a year. It's rewarding, being able to help my clients, though none have been as pretty as you.”

Blaise’s heart beat soared at that, which was _dumb_ because it was just empty flattery. “Well, uh… I can order you, right?”

“Yes, though I'm always allowed to say no.”

“Okay. Uh… Get me a glass of water, then.” 

Blaise always hated when people told him to drink water near his heats. Whenever he told his boss he needed time off for his heat he was always like “O _h, make sure to stay hydrated!”_ Like he hadn't been doing this his whole damn life. _“Oh, just drink more water! Stand under Niagara Falls and open your mouth! Meditate until you_ become _water!”_ But just because he hated it didn't make him an idiot: he knew he'd be slicking something awful the moment Prince touched him, and that took water. 

Prince didn't seem unhappy going back and forth two or three times when he was told, which was a relief to Blaise. He didn't like people who couldn't follow reasonable directions. He kept talking and talking which Blaise usually hated, but he was saying interesting things and asking questions with his smooth voice, so he didn't really mind. 

“Alright, my turn for a question.” Blaise bit his lip. “What would you do if I asked you to kiss me?”

“I'd come over and kiss you.”

“And what would you do if I told you never to kiss me?”

“I would never kiss you.”

Blaise shifted, trying to banish his damn anxiety. “Okay. Kiss me, then.”

Prince smiled. “Alright. Can I climb into your nest?”

“Well, take your shoes off first. Then you can do what you want.” He was about to open his mouth again to say something dumb like “I don't want your dirty shoes all over my nest,” but then the bed dipped next to him and soft lips met his own, and he right forgot he knew how to talk at all. 

Prince tasted like mint, as if he'd just brushed his teeth in preparation for this kiss. Blaise probably tasted like hospital lounge coffee and Cheetos but Prince didn't seem to mind as he cupped Blaise’s face and deepened the kiss. Blaise had half a mind to protest, as he hadn’t told Prince he could do that, but it was barely any time before he only had a quarter of a mind to spare for such thoughts, and then he was leaning into Prince and didn’t have any mind at all. 

Blaise couldn’t say how long they kissed, only that when he pulled back he was panting for air and one of Prince’s hands was on the back of his neck, and he didn’t mind because he’d already told Prince it didn’t feel like nothing to be touched there, but it was distracting nonetheless and the heat was already rising—

He rested his head on Prince’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. He smelled like cinnamon, and butterscotch, and _perfect._

He gathered the energy to lift his head and look Prince straight in the eyes. His eyes were almost black, pupils blown with desire. Blaise knew he smelled like heat, like sex, like something this perfect creation of God would desire. 

“ _Were you made for me?”_ Blaise breathed. 

“ _Maybe.”_ They held eyes for a long moment, arousal hanging in the air like electricity, and a deeper connection than Blaise had ever felt towards another human growing exponentially. 

“ _Fuck—fucking breed me, Alpha!”_

It's all he could say. 

From there it was hurried—or more accurately, Blaise was hurried, Prince was taking his _damn time_ and honestly it was insulting. Did Blaise just not smell sweet enough to get him to rip his Omega’s clothes off? He knew he was smelling sweeter by the second, and so was Prince—But he didn’t have the mind to think why an _Alpha_ would get sweet with rut and arousal, to think about the blood test and the words _dominant Omega,_ to remember he wasn’t very sweet himself, he just knew that he was wet and needed this Alpha _right now._

“Breathe, Blaise.” Prince instructed him once Blaise had gotten himself bare and managed to get his Alpha shirtless. 

“I am breathing.” Blaise tried to come in for another kiss, but Prince pushed him back with a steady hand on his chest. He wondered if Prince could feel how heart was beating. Because of the heat. Because of him.

“You’re panting. Breathe deeper—In through the nose, out through through the mouth.”

“You just want me to breathe in your scent.”

“I want you to calm yourself a bit. Now breathe.”

“Will you fuck me if I breathe right?”

“Yes, my Omega.”

Blaise huffed. Well, if that’s all it took to get the knot he deserved, he wasn’t going to complain. He breathed. He couldn’t decide if it was clearing his head or muddling it all to shreds with the goddamn Undertale pie scent in the air. Fuck.

“Will you fuck me now?” Blaise repeated, gripping Prince’s wrist.

“I’ll certainly do something to you.” Prince moved his hand, capturing Blaise’s lips again. “But I must rescind one statement.”

“Which one?”

“The one where I said I wasn’t going to eat you.”

_“Oh._ ” Blaise gasped. “Well, I—I guess I can’t fault you for that. Do what you— _ah!”_

He couldn’t say much after that, because Prince’s mouth was wrapped around his cock and he was already dead. Fuck. _Fuck._ He gripped the sheets as fingers played with his entrance, but because Prince was a _jerk,_ didn’t breach deeper. 

“Fuck, Alpha, are you trying to make me beg for it? Do you want me sniffling and screaming _Please, oh Please, I’ll do anything—”_

“No.” Prince replied, which he _shouldn’t_ have because talking had the unfortunate consequence of removing his mouth from Blaise’s cock, which should be a felony. “But I must say I am partial to foreplay.”

“And _I_ am partial to your knot, Al _pha!”_ His voice cracked when that silky heat enveloped him again and long, dark fingers _finally_ entered him. Curses continued to tumble from his lips: cursing his goddamned tongue and the heinous lack of a knot filling him, making him whole. He was so _empty._

“ _Alpha, I swear to god—_ ”

“Okay, okay.” Prince laughed again, pulling off Blaise’s cock for a final time. “I’ll give you what you need, my Omega. Just breathe.”

Breathe. Okay. 

Prince bared himself unbearably slowly (though in all fairness, Blaise’s time sense wasn’t exactly running right), but it was worth it. Prince was perfect. Blaise had actually been worried Prince would be a little _big_ for him, with all those rumors about big black cock and Alphas already being prone to oversized endowments, but Prince was _perfect._ He was going to be so full. He’d be… He’d be so good for his Alpha. He’d take all of it, the eight-something inches and the already swollen knot at the base, just begging to be taken care of. 

“Should I… Present?” He gripped the shaft in one hand, feeling it’s solidity in his grasp. 

“Do you want to?”

Blaise let that bounce around his three remaining brain cells, and shook his head. “Lean back. Hands above your head. I’m going to ride this bad boy.”

“Thought so.” Prince laughed again. Prince laughed a lot. It was obnoxious—Prince should be _moaning,_ not laughing. Should be growling, rutting, _needing,_ like Blaise needed him. It looked like there were some things that needed correcting. Prince presented nicely. All sculpted muscle, surrendering himself so prettily for his Omega. Blaise straddled him, rubbing his ass against the rigid shaft as he moved to kiss that dumb grin off of his lips.

“I’m going to take all of you, Alpha. All, of, _you.”_

He bottomed out with a cry, closing his eyes and rocking his hips in bliss. It was easy to lose himself to the rhythm of it, _taking_ his pleasure (because Prince was too slow to give it to him). Prince’s hands wandered up Blaise’s torso, toying with his dusty brown nipples, tweaking and pulling, but Blaise barely noticed. The only thing that existed was Prince’s cock, and the overwhelming _need need need_ to be knotted now now _now._

“Prince!” Blaise cried, gripping his own cock as he bared down on Prince. “Fucking. Knot me. _Now.”_

“Yes, my Omega.”

Blaise _fucking died._

———

The great thing about Alphas in rut is that they have near unlimited stamina. The bad thing about Alphas in rut was that they are fucking animals.Prince was not an animal, but he was on his thirdof the night and Blaise was fucking flying. The heat had lulled a bit after the second one, but the world being the cruel, cruel place it was, came back in full force within the hour. Prince had near needed to pour the water down his throat to get him to drink anything before he was back on his prize, on all fours and _commanding_ Prince to pound him. Not asking, not begging—Commanding. And Prince _listened._

“You ready for another one, my little forest fire?” Prince grunted. “Can you take another knot?” 

“You know I can. Knot me _now,_ Alpha.”

“If that’s what you want.”

The fullness was overwhelming in ways Blaise could not describe—He was coming again, felt the useless liquid spurting from his cock as his hole clamped down on the knot, tying them together. He panted, cursing Prince and praising him, the difference becoming muddy. It wasn’t as if he could think anyhow.

Fifteen minutes later, it started all over again. This time Blaise was on his back, kissing his Alpha as he was bred. His Alpha had such lewd expressions, no matter how calm he made himself: Face screwed up in pleasure, mouth hanging open as Blaise coaxed little grunts from it.

They kissed for the entire time Prince was tied to him, tangling their tongues together and exchanging silent ‘ _I love yous,’_ and even if it was the heat tricking him Blaise revelled in the affection. 

It took ten more knots over one more day before the heat finally broke. It was different each time—Prince lifting him up and fucking him against the wall, bending him over the kitchen counter, eating his used up, swollen hole until Blaise begged for another knot. He’d screamed as the heat broke, the preceding orgasm being too intense for Blaise to handle at reasonable volume. Prince had looked tired by then, stroking Blaise’s back as he fell asleep, slotted against his Alpha.

Prince was still there when Blaise awoke, playing with his hair and laying kisses on his brow. He felt tired, lethargic, but—But happy. He was happy.

“Good morning, little flame.” Prince whispered, breath warm on his ear. “You sleep well?”

“I don’t know. I’m still exhausted.” Blaise’s throat was still raw from all the moaning (which he _refused_ to be ashamed of.) “I’ve never had a heat break so fast.”

“You’ve always spent your heats alone, dummy. You won’t have to do that anymore.”

“No, I suppose I won’t. Will I see you again?”

“Probably not. We don’t usually get assigned to the same Omega twice.”

Blaise’s entire world went cold.

“What? Why?” He began to struggle, sitting upright and staring horrified at the man who had made a mess of him, fixed him, and loved him. He was _sure_ that was real. “I don’t want anyone but you!”

“Shh. Neither do I, my Omega. But I do not choose my clients.”

Tears filled Blaise’s eyes as his fantasy crashed down around him. “ _They can’t take you away from me!”_

“Calm down, Blaise. Lay back down and enjoy the time we have.” He brushed tears off Blaise’s cheeks, kissing around his face and holding him close. “I don’t like it any more than you do.”

“Betcha said that to every Omega you’ve _helped.”_

“No. Just you. You’re the only one I’ve really wanted.”

Blaise’s quiet keens became sobs at that declaration, shoulders shaking as he melted into Prince. “ _Then find me after. I live in—”_

The door opened, a Beta functionary holding robes stepping inside. “Blaise Fierro? It’s time to check out. We have a bath prepared for you.”

“Can Prince help me clean?”

“No. My most sincere apologies.” The Beta smiled, like a snake. “It’s important not to let companions get too connected to their clients. It can have a negative psychological impact on both parties.”

“But—” Tears filled Blaise’s eyes again. “But he’s perfect!”

“I’m sorry.” The Beta said, but she wasn’t. “It’s just the rules.”

“Then… Then I’m staying right here ‘till you change your goddamn rules, lady. You can’t make me do a goddamn thing, you know that? I’m a free citizen and I can spend my time with whatever Alpha I damn well please--And where are you going? Come back here!”

“It’s not going to work, Blaise.” Prince kissed his brow. “They won’t let you stay here forever.”

“What can they do about it? If they lay a hand on me I’ll sue their asses into the red. You best believe I will.”

“You can’t do that, Blaise.” Prince’s voice was quiet, sweet, full of emotion. It made Blaise wanna go right back to sleep even with his sudden conviction. “You signed a waiver. Remember? They have legal permission to restrain you.”

He did remember something like that. But he was in preheat when he signed it--There must be some law that made contracts signed under such biological duress illegal. He’d done a few years in law school before he realized he _really_ didn’t wanna be a lawyer, with all their fancy snake talking and legalese. Plus, he was strong for an Omega. He could fight off a few Betas for long enough that they’d get their head in order.

“Okay, okay, whatever.” Blaise pouted. “It’s fine. Just find me after. I work at--”

Two big, big alphas appeared at the door. Not pretty ones like Prince, neither. Big ones that smelled like chilli peppers and made his nose itch. The bad sort of Alpha. And they didn’t even talk--They didn’t talk at _all._ They just grabbed his arms and bent his wrists, and it _hurt,_ and suddenly Prince looked panicked and he was yelling (because of _course_ his new mate would try to defend him), but then another Alpha pressed hard on Prince’s neck and he went all limp like an Omega was meant to. Blaise swore he could smell his mate’s tears. Blaise swore a _lot_ , yelling, gnashing teeth, not giving two damns how hard the Alphas squeezed on _his_ neck, but the Alphas still dragged him out ‘fore he managed to tell Prince where he worked. 

And he wasn’t even able to sue them after. Not for a penny.

———

_Eight Months Later_

_Omega Heat Center Firebombed During Protest_. 

Blaise read the article title over and over, attempting to puzzle out whatever meaning could be whittled from words read hundreds of times. Heat centers were such controversial things, with them allowing Omegas the freedom not to marry and whatnot. It wasn’t as if he were fond of the place or anything, not after they took Prince from him, not after they refused to let him see his _mate_ time and time again, (because Prince was his mate and you could not convince him otherwise.) Hell, he hadn’t even gone into heat again since the experience. Truly traumatic.

It had been good, while it lasted. A whole forty eight hours of love. But life went on: the repetition of work, sleep, work, complain about boss anonymously on twitter, sleep, and buying ramen and apples at grocery stores lit with fluorescent lights, as he was doing currently.

“Are you going to buy that?” The cashier asked, sounding about as dead as Blaise felt. 

“No.” He never paid for his news when he could just google it. “Now shush. I’m reading.” The cashier’s distaste was reasonable: he was holding up the line, but his (former) love life mattered more than the other people in line. Obviously.

That’s when it happened: he caught the faint trace of _scent_ in the air like cinnamon and butterscotch and for a moment he thought he must be hallucinating. Still, his legs began to move without his command, leaving his groceries and wallet behind as he sniffed the air. A walk turned into a run, the world blurring around him as the cashier called to him and he wrapped his arms around a familiar stranger.

He was barely two inches taller than Blaise: tiny for an Alpha, though Blaise wasn’t a wee little five foot like the stereotype. He smelled like damned perfection as Blaise breathed in deep, memorizing the nuances he’d lost in the haze of heat. For a moment Blaise’s entire world was that scent, was the memory of fingers digging into his hips, hot breath on his ear, and the silent intimacy he imagined only mates could manage.

“Blaise?” Prince’s quiet voice broke his revery.

“Of course.” Blaise stepped back, placing his hands on his hips. “And what’s your name?”

“Prince.”

“Your _real_ name.”

“That is my real name.”

“What, seriously? That’s the dumbest, most pretentious name I’ve ever hea—”

Prince captured his lips before he could finish the insult, and Blaise couldn’t be happier.


End file.
